Adrian’s POV
The silence was different without her. Not the kind I usually preferred, the surgical room hush, the meditative hum of a house too large for one man, but an unfamiliar sort of quiet that rang hollow.
I stood by the window in my study, a crystal tumbler in hand, ice clinking against the sides as I stared into the dark horizon. The city lights blinked back indifferently. Somewhere across the city, Elena was probably curled beneath her worn lavender sheets, fingers skimming the edges of her comfort zone, trying to remember what her own space felt like.
I sipped the whiskey slowly. It burned less than I expected.
Renata had offered a knowing look when I returned without Elena. “She needed space,” I’d said, more to myself than to her. The house had already started to miss her.
